


i’m not in love

by forpeaches (bluecarrot)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Idiots in Love, Marriage Proposal, Squabbling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22702873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecarrot/pseuds/forpeaches
Summary: the argument started in its usual way, and of course by the time they made it back to the house they were yelling.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 25
Kudos: 195





	i’m not in love

**Author's Note:**

> written 12-13 February 2020.
> 
> i’m not in love, so don’t forget  
> it’s just a silly phase i’m going through  
> (10cc)

The argument started from the usual place. Jaime was too needy — Brienne was too reserved — 

By the time they made it to the apartment, they had made it to the yelling. She was holding her jaw very tight. “I’m not you! I don’t show how I feel. I _can’t_.”

A muscle twitched in his face. “You can’t.”

“It isn’t how I work.”

“Maybe it should be.”

“Are you really telling me that my emotions— the way I respond — isn’t good enough for you?”

He rubbed his head, and his hair stuck out in a dozen directions. “No. Yes. I only — I love you. I only need to know that you feel the same way.”

“Of course I do.” She was not going to cry. Not here. Not in the middle of a fight. “You know that I do.”

“Then — then _marry_ me. Have a baby with me. Hell, why stop at one? Let’s have three.” She was shaking her head by the time he was half through. “Brienne ... why not?  Why? Why are you afraid of committing? Don’t you trust me?”

“Don’t. I don’t want to talk about this, I don’t want to fight. Let’s go to bed.”

He stared at her. “Are you really trying to get out of this by fucking me until I forget to be mad?”

Yes. No. “I need you,” she told him: it was that failure of words again, her emotions coming up against a limit. She wrapped her arms around his waist; she pressed her body against his, wove her hand into his hair. “I want you to fuck  me until _I_ forget about it. I want you. I want ...”

Jaime’s eyes closed, not necessarily in pleasure: but he obligingly tilted his head to the side when she kissed his neck. “We are going to talk about this.” 

“We can talk in bed,” said Brienne fiercely, and pulled him with her.

She dug her nails into his back hard enough to break the skin, and orgasm dragged them under its wave: but neither of them forgot.

Brienne couldn’t sleep.

He was so beautiful, this man. She smoothed back the hair from his temple and followed it with her mouth.

Jaime smiled. “You’re beautiful.”

“Your eyes are closed, idiot.”

“I know how you look.” But he did open his eyes then, and the smile faded. “Why won’t you marry me?”

“You’ve never asked.”

“Oh, that’s bullshit. I’ve been asking you for years.”

What? No. 

“Yes, I have. I asked you last week when you came home with that chocolate I like.”

“Shouting  _Marry me_ from the kitchen doesn’t count as a proposal.”

“You don’t  _want_ things like — like a hundred roses and three dozen balloons and a flash mob singing and dancing on the steps of the Met. You don’t want that sort of thing, the shit Cersei needed from me — the way she never had enough—”

“I’m not Cersei.”

“I don’t want you to be Cersei.” He rolled on top of her, comfortably straddling her hips. “I want you to be who you are. I love — I am  _in love_ with who you are.” 

“Does love need to include marriage?”

“You don’t trust me.”

“Of course I trust you.”

He looked — young. Frightened. “You go to the gym six times a week, you benchpress twice my weight ...”

“ Are you saying that’s too much? Do you think we can’t afford it?”

He didn’t rise to the bait. “I’m saying you work your ass off to make sure that you can ... win in a fight. To make sure that you can push me off you and make sure I don’t get up again, afterwards.”

Suddenly his legs were a trap, his hips holding her down. She forced her hands to stay still at her side. “Jaime ...”

“You’ve never taken me seriously. I can’t even make you believe I want to marry you. It’s like you’re  waiting for me to hurt you. Like you expect it. And I won’t do it, Brienne. I never will.”

“You’re hurting me now,” she said. “Right this moment.”

He moved off her, laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Brienne curled up on her side, facing him as he faced away.

She thought suddenly of the way he’d looked at Tyrion’s wedding. They had sat in a corner and she helped Jaime with his new prosthetic, fussing over the straps and refastening his cufflinks while he looked up through overlong hair: _I never want to go to sleep without you._

Was that romance?

“I love you,” she said, and Jaime didn’t answer.

_This is Tywin,_ he’d said, introducing them. _Father — this is Brienne, the love of my life._

She had blushed crimson, humiliated, stumbling on her words —

—and when he came to Tarth and met her father —

_What are your intentions?_ Selwyn asked.

Jaime stuffed his real hand in his pocket, looking embarrassingly earnest. _I mean to marry her, sir._

_Has she agreed?_

_Yes,_ said Jaime: and Brienne stepped in between them, babbling something stupid about the wine.

He was right. She hadn’t ever believed him.

Maybe it was time to start.

“I will marry you,” she said

but he was already asleep, mouth open a little and dreaming. 

**Author's Note:**

> jaime “i know we’ve only just met but eventually you’ll want to marry me so we might as well do it now” lannister


End file.
